“I heard they want this guy pretty bad, can’t say they didn’t put enough gold on his head. I sure could use that money. Bell needs to retire, she can’t pull that plow no more, and you know my well is running low. Jake’s only got three legs now; missus passed away few years back, might as well just start digging my own grave.”

“Yup” said the barkeep. “Then again just about everyone round here could use it.”

A third man leans over breaking into the conversation, “Don’t you know who that is?” he asked the two.

“Nope” said the barkeep.

“That there is the Black Hand, ya fools.” says the stranger “How can you not have heard of him here, seems he is everywhere.”

”What’s so special about this bandit anyway?” says the old man , eyeing up the stranger still covered in road dust.

“The Black Hand isn’t just a bandit, he is the Bandit King; he has quite the following now. Men and women from all walks of life have flocked to him. Heard he has no regard for nobility, and I can’t say I blame ‘em neither after hear’in his story” continues the traveler.

“Well you gonna leave us sittin here, or you gonna tell it?” said the old man.

“My throat is mighty dry” he said with a side long glance towards the barkeep.